


Harry Potter and the Ever-Locked Room

by iloveyoudrarrymuch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 23:36:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3400424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iloveyoudrarrymuch/pseuds/iloveyoudrarrymuch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter is the Head Auror in the Ministry of Magic and he throws a fit when Minister Shacklebolt hires his old enemy, Draco Malfoy, as an Unspeakable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Meeting with the Minister of Magic

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

     Harry Potter went storming down the corridor toward the Minister of Magic’s office, his hair getting swept up in the wind and landing disheveled back down to frame his face. It had been a few months since his last trim and as he caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the glass doors embellished “MoM,” he was reminded of how he looked back at Hogwarts, back before everything changed. _It seemed so far away now_ , and it really was he thought, _that was 15 years ago_.

     “Auror Potter!” squeaked a small, squat woman, dressed in lavish, purple robes as Harry came bursting through the doors. Her quill and a few files fell to the floor as she lost focus on the charm.

     “No time to talk, Mrs. Primsley, have to see the Minister right away,” he returned as he strode past the aging witch. Harry couldn’t help but to be distracted by her in the same way he always was: how could this old woman stand to move? Even after all his time becoming familiar with the wizarding world and magic folk’s ability to outlive Muggles, he was sure he’d never seen anyone quite so old as Patilda Primsley, the Head Receptionist to the Minister of Magic, and he was completely unsure on how she got from place to place. She must have been too fragile for the Floo or to Apparate, and Harry simply couldn’t picture this ancient witch climbing into a toilet bowl -- _NO MATTER_ \-- he thought as he pushed it from his mind. The doors to the Minister’s office were propped open magically as Harry approached.

     “KINGSLEY!” Harry shouted as he crossed the threshold into a lush office, decorated in souvenirs from a life of rich travel. “This is totally mad, it’s an outrage, I simply won’t stand for it!”

     “Then perhaps you should take a seat, Harry,” Kingsley offered, as cool and even as ever. Minister Shacklebolt closed the doors with a deft wave of his hand. He was dressed, as usual, in a Muggle suit, dashingly defying Wizard fashion. “I apologize for the state of my office. I would have cleaned up if I had known to expect you.” Harry, taking a seat, looked around the room and as far as he could tell nothing was out of place save a few papers on Kingsley’s desk, a marked improvement over his own cluttered office. After shuffling the correspondence he had been reading into a neat pile, Kingsley continued, “Now, Harry, what brings you in today?”

      “You know exactly what brings me in today,” Harry mimicked the last few words and instantly regretted it. He was a respected member of the Ministry, the youngest Head Auror ever installed, and, of course, the Boy Who Lived, as no one ever let him forget, but sometimes Kingsley still made him feel like an angsty teenager. “How could you hire HIM? Of all the people in the world? For Merlin’s sake, Kingsley, why would you hire DRACO MALFOY?”

     It took a few moments before the Minister spoke, and Harry was unsure whether that meant Kingsley was trying to choose his words with particular care, or that he was letting Harry cool off so that they could talk professionally about the decision. The latter made Harry feel even more immature than before, and he slunk down in the chair. Finally, Kingsley said, “He was the most qualified candidate for the position.”

     “But he fought for Voldemort during the war! Not to mention the torment he put me through for six years before that!” argued Harry.

“I didn’t think you had a problem with Mr. Malfoy, given the testimony you provided at his hearing. From what you said, he was faced with pressure from his family and coerced by the greatest dark wizard of our time, and that in his position you would have made many of his same choices. You, perhaps not solely, but in a large part, are the very reason he is not locked in Azkaban like his parents and the rest of the Death Eaters.”

     Harry felt his stomach twist and turn. The months, and honestly the first few years following the Second Wizarding War were such a blur, he had almost forgotten the Trial of Draco Malfoy. With Kingsley Shacklebolt as the new Minister of Magic, Death Eaters were being quickly rounded up and tried for myriad crimes, some so vulgar Harry winced as he sat remembering those times. Every Death Eater involved in the Battle of Hogwarts and the events leading up to it was sent away to Azkaban. All except Draco Malfoy. When it came time for the youngest Malfoy’s trial Draco had come to terms with his fate. He had seen all his fellow Death Eaters meet justice, even his own parents, and he knew what was waiting for him when he stood before the Wizengamot. Draco had presented his case to the court and then they asked for any witnesses for his defence. Just as he was about to answer in the negative, he found himself shocked and speechless as Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and Neville Longbottom walked in the chamber and gave testimony. His shock turned to incredible relief as he was instead sentenced to be placed under house arrest and to pay for the damages to the Hogwarts school along with the other accused.

     Kingsley quickly brought Harry back to the present with a gentle clearing of his throat. “Listen to me, Harry. I was there with you. I lost many friends, those who I considered to be like family, to Voldemort and his Death Eaters. It was a dark time, my boy. But we found the light, and we nurtured it and here we are now: the Minister of Magic and the Head Auror. Have I ever given you reason to doubt me?”

     Harry waited a moment before answering, “No, no you haven’t, Kingsley. You have always acted in the best interest of magic folk and Muggles alike. You have completely transformed the Ministry and made it into a force for good. You have my deepest respect. But that’s exactly why I’m so troubled by this most recent decision. How can we possibly trust Malfoy to work in the Ministry? In the Department of Mysteries of all places? Don’t you remember Rookwood? He was feeding information to Voldemort from inside the Ministry for years before Karkaroff gave him and Barty Crouch Jr. up!”

     Kingsley chuckled, “The number of things Dumbledore must have told you still astound me, Harry. You make it sound like you were there. Still, you’re the Head Auror, tell me, who exactly do you think Mr. Malfoy could be selling information to? What Dark Wizard remains that you and your Aurors haven’t dealt with?”

     “That hardly seems like the point, Minister. What exactly are Malfoy’s ‘qualifications’ that you spoke so highly of?”

     “Mr. Malfoy, perhaps you don’t remember, is an extremely talented wizard. I’ll have you remember that he was able to repair a Vanishing Cabinet to working order, he was in four N.E.W.T. level classes in his seventh year, that he is a proficient duelist, he has spent the last decade studying both alchemy and magical artefacts, and he is a master Occlumens. Quite frankly, on paper, he’s more qualified than you.”

     Harry scoffed at that, long come to terms with the fact that he hadn’t finished school. Maybe he really had forgotten how talented a wizard Malfoy had been. Nonetheless, Harry didn’t like it. “And what will he be doing here at the Ministry, down there in the Department of Mysteries?”

     “That, my friend, is something that I cannot tell you.”

     Harry didn’t need to speak, the surprise on his face said enough. As far as he could recall, Kingsley had never intentionally kept anything from him.

     Kingsley simply said, “Mr. Malfoy is an Unspeakable now.” And with that he gestured toward the double doors, which opened at the movement of his hand, his attention already returned to the papers on his desk.

     Harry stood up and calmly made his way out the doors, past the mysterious Mrs. Primsley, down the lift, to the Atrium. His day was over, it was time to take the Floo home, and try to separate his work life from his personal life, time to go home to Ginny, James, Albus, and young Lily. And yet something was pulling at him. Across the Atrium he could have sworn he saw a streak of bright white hair before it vanished into a Floo and Harry was left with half his mind thinking about how dreadful it will be to have Malfoy at work everyday, and the other half, oddly, looking forward to it.


	2. The Graveyard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry meanders through Godric's Hollow on his way home from work, Draco Malfoy's hiring weighing heavily on his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so very long since I published the first chapter and promised that more was coming. Between some huge personal struggles and tragic writer's block I lost direction for what I wanted this fic to be. I think I'm finally on the right track again. Thanks so much.

     Autumn had arrived in the small village of Godric’s Hollow, the leaves on the trees had begun their colorful journey towards their winter death, and the night was cool and brisk. The quiet that blanketed the village square was broken by a sharp crack as Harry apparated into existence before the statue commemorating his family. It had become his routine to forgo using the Floo powder in favor of apparating into town and walking home, imagining the life his parents had spent with him here as an infant and the life that could have been. It was no use to dwell on the past he knew, but then why did he make this solemn march every night? _This is all I have left of them_ , he thought, _all that matters anyway_. Having visited this monument on his way home nearly every day for the last few years he knew every inch of it and one detail always caught his attention. There, carved in stone, a baby Harry, but on the forehead...nothing. He reached up and touched his real forehead, still marked from that night over 30 years ago.

     After a few moments he turned and walked down the road away from the monument, which at a distance transformed into an obelisk carved with the names of Muggles lost in a war. This night didn’t seem so lonely, Harry noticed; illuminated, friendly faces carved into turnips and pumpkins lined the road. _It’s funny_ , he thought, _Muggles persecuted wizards and witches for so long, and now they celebrate ancient magic holidays as if they were their own_.

     Halloween was fast approaching, it had been one of Harry’s favorite days on Privet Drive. Trick-or-treating wasn’t quite so popular back then, so the Dursleys always spent the night at the Grunnings Halloween Party which meant Harry had the house to himself for a precious few hours. He could usually sneak a few sweet treats and even watch some old Muggle horror movie on the telly. Once he had started at Hogwarts, the day took on a different meaning to him, starting with the troll in the dungeon his first year. How exciting and new everything seemed back then. Budding friendships, a new world full of magic, a place to call home. _How quickly things change_. The next few Halloweens saw the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, Sirius’s breaking into Hogwarts, and the start of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. _Ginny, Sirius, Cedric…_ the names rang in his head. At least Ginny had gone through that early encounter unscathed, at least physically. And then a few years later he found out that October 31st was the day of his parents’ deaths, the day he was orphaned, permanently destroying any future excitement over Halloween.

     As he walked down the road a graveyard grew into sight up ahead. _It’s already so late, Ginny will have put the kids to bed, what’s the point in hurrying home?_ He entered through the gate and made the familiar journey to his parents’ gravestone. After moving to Godric’s Hollow Harry had placed a bench at the foot of the plot, foreseeing that he would spend a sizable amount time sitting there. The cold, night air had started to bite at his ears and nose, so he cast a quick heating charm around the area. It wasn’t long before a familiar presence floated up towards him.

     “Harry my dear boy, how truly delightful to see you this evening” the ghost said, taking the seat next to Harry.

     “And it’s nice to see you as well, great-grandfather.”

     “I’ve told you, Henry will do just fine.”

     “If you insist, but I won’t like it.” Harry said laughing. He had read in _A History of Magic_ that this graveyard was haunted, and the local Muggle population seemed to realize that fact too, but he never would have guessed that the ghost in question was his own great-grandfather Henry Potter. He appeared as he had in life, dressed in sublime robes with familiar round framed glasses, and even late in life he carried handsome features, but slightly more ghostly. Harry had heard many stories from him about his time on the Wizengamot and his unyielding support for Muggle affairs. The recent advances the non-magic folks had made in their technology were of particular interest to him, and Harry shared what little he knew.

     “How are things at the Ministry, still reeling from the shock of my retirement I presume?” Henry said with a kind laugh.

     “As always, to be sure,” returned Harry. The old man’s jovial way had always pleased Harry, he had even introduced his sons to their twice great-grandfather. “But in seriousness, the Minister of Magic has made a hire that I have to object with, a former Death Eater actually, hired into the Department of Mysteries”

     “Ah, I see. I was under the impression, and forgive me for my misunderstanding, that none of that dark wizard’s servants would leave Azkaban.”

     “There was one...that...well I’m not really sure about to be honest. He was a classmate of mine, same year. I despised him all the way through, and the feeling was mutual. He followed in his parents’ footsteps and was tasked with killing Dumbledore under the curse of an Unbreakable Vow, even though he didn’t end up going through with it. Draco Malfoy was his-”

     “MALFOY? Just to hear the name makes me uneasy. The things I’ve heard Malfoys say. Their elitist notions, they’re a stain on the very name of Wizardry! Of course they’d say the same about me, ha!”

     “Well your legacy has carried, Henry. Draco Malfoy was foul to me from the very beginning, as far as I can remember.”

     “Why isn’t the little bugger locked up with the rest of them?”

     “That’s the thing…” Harry wasn’t sure what to say. He hadn’t been sure while he sat before the Wizengamot, testifying on the youngest Malfoy’s behalf. “I didn’t think he deserved a life sentence. I spoke in favor of a lighter sentence for him. And, if I’m being perfectly honest, I had incredible power over the outcome of the Death Eaters’ trials. What with the fact that I defeated Voldemort...”

     “Well Harry, I trust that you made the right choice. If you found it in yourself to forgive him then, why do you doubt him now?”

     “I testified in his favor because he was just a kid...just a kid like me! It wasn’t fair that the fate of the world rested on our shoulders back then. His parents, their associates...they all chose to follow Voldemort; Malfoy was born into it, and his cooperation expected. And...as someone who knows what it’s like to be without one’s parents, I couldn’t see how life in prison would make a difference after we’d already locked up the rest of his family. But that still doesn’t mean he deserves a place in the Ministry.”

     “What was his punishment?” asked Henry.

     “He had to pay, along with the others, for the damages to the Hogwarts Castle, and then he was put under house arrest...but come to think of it, I didn’t stay to hear the details of his judgement. It’s been 15 years since all this happened, maybe that’s how long his sentence was.”

     “Do you have any idea what he’ll be doing down in Mysteries?”

     “No, Kingsley wouldn’t tell me. Said he’s an Unspeakable now.”

     “Then you might as well forget the whole thing. I’m surprised you even know as much as you do.”  With that, Henry stood up, “As always Harry, a pleasure talking. I’m very glad we have this opportunity,” he said, bowing as he floated away.

     Harry sat there for a few minutes more, eyes fixed on the names carved in stone. The two people he’d never had the chance of getting to know. Stolen away. Eventually he looked down at his watch, _Damn! After midnight…_

⃟  ⃟  ⃟  ⃟

     The house was dark when he walked up to the porch. The deadbolt drew itself open at his touch and he stepped inside. Despite the decorations and linens that filled every cranny, it was cold in here too, and he couldn’t sense the presence of other people, which he’d learned how to do during his time as an Auror. Quickly he found the note, explaining the empty house.

_Harry,_

_It would seem that you’ve forgotten_

_my trip. My mother is watching the_

_kids for you. They’ll miss you._

_Ginny_

 

     “Damn,” he said aloud. Ginny had said something about this he was sure. Something about being at an event for retired Quidditch players. He thought maybe she’d been invited as a guest speaker. The latest in a long line of passive-aggressive notes to which he’d come home. _The Boy Who Lived grew up to be the Man Who Disappointed_ , he thought, not for the first time since he’d become installed as Head Auror and nearly let his family fall apart. He knew his marriage was nearing it’s end, he just didn’t see his wife enough to even talk about it. Up the stairs and to his study he went, grabbing a tumbler of his preferred Dragon Barrel Brandy and settling into his favorite chair. He couldn’t bring himself to lay in bed alone tonight.


	3. Office 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry receives an invitation to "volunteer" to participate with a study in the Department of Mysteries by none other than...MALFOY?

     Harry woke to tapping on his window. _Merlin, what time is it, wait no...it’s Saturday_. He stood up, and abruptly crumpled back down into his chair. An empty bottle that sat on his desk was knocked off when he fell, shattering on the floor. The sound of the glass breaking splintered through Harry’s mind, making him cover his face and lay his head down. He reached around for his wand and found it nearby, _Thank Godric_. “Accio hangover draught,” he whispered, raising a hand to catch the vial that came speeding toward him.

     It took all the strength he had to lift his head back and drink the concoction. He started to feel the effects of the potion and stood up, this time finding his footing and he moved towards the window. As he pulled back the curtains he narrowed his eyes to combat the painful sunlight that flooded the room. At the window, tapping ever fervently, was a large eagle owl, eager to complete his task. Harry opened the window and the owl flew in and landed clumsily on a bookshelf. Attached to its leg was a spot of bright white parchment, rolled into a tiny scroll. The owl held out its leg as Harry approached, and he thought he almost recognized it, but how many owls had he seen in his life? Too many to remember them all. He untied the parchment from the owl, petted it softly and returned to his desk. _Must be waiting for a reply_ , he thought, since the owl didn’t take off right away.

_To whom it may concern,_

_Congratulations! You’ve been randomly selected from a list of Ministry employees to participate in an exciting new experimental_ _study. For the next three months,_ _you will be spending a few hours every Saturday answering brief questionnaires and interviews. We are testing an hypothesis that unfortunately is too sensitive to_ _Ministry security to entrust to an owl, but you will be well informed once your participation has begun. We expect to see you at promptly 9 o’clock this morning._

 

_Please Report to:_

_Department of Mysteries_

_Room 18, Level 9_

_Ministry of Magic_

_London, England_

_Regards,_

_Draco Malfoy_

_Unspeakable_

__

     Harry couldn’t believe what he was reading. _Randomly selected, my arse_ , he thought. If there was anything he’d learned in his life, it was that Harry Potter didn’t get randomly selected. Why would Malfoy have chosen _him_ of all people to run tests on? What could the git be thinking? _It’s nearly 9 o’clock now_ , he realized and hurried up to get ready. He needed to see Kingsley right away, there was no way that, even if it was a random selection, the Department of Mysteries could just volunteer employees’ weekends away to run experiments. A mirror hung on the wall behind him and he checked his appearance. His anti-wrinkling robes were clean but his hair a mess, not like there was anything he could ever do to tame it. After ushering the owl out of his study, he quickly repaired the bottle that had smashed on the floor and walked over to his fireplace. Grabbing a pinch of Floo powder he announced, “Head Auror’s Office!” In an instant he was there, standing amidst a mountain of paperwork that, truth be told, would never be filed. Harry despised the bureaucracy of it, but he loved the job. Perhaps he could get an intern if he asked. He pushed the idea from his mind and looked down at his watch, _8:42_. Hurrying out the door, he strode down the corridor and made the familiar trip to the Minister’s office.

     The halls were empty on the weekend, Harry knew; he’d once spent 26 consecutive days at the Ministry, sleeping on the couch in his office, while overseeing three simultaneous missions trying to crack down on dark wizards in Romania, Tunisia, and Bangladesh. Upon the missions completions, all three successful, he had received kudos, well wishes, and commendations from nearly everyone in the Ministry. It hardly seemed worth it when he finally returned home to face a discontent wife and three children who seemed to barely remember him after his month away. _Everything went downhill after I was installed Head Auror_ , he thought for a moment, but then let it go as he turned the corner and entered Kingsley’s office. Mrs. Primsley wasn’t there, but he knew the Minister would be, even if it was the weekend. _8:46_.

     “Kingsley?” Harry tried, peeking his head around the corner.

     “Yes, Harry, come in,” Kingsley Shacklebolt stood with his morning teacup at the window that covered the rear wall of his office. “You don’t look well, care for some tea?” Harry shook his head in the negative. “What brings you in on a Saturday?”

     “You mean you don’t know about this?” Harry asked, holding up the parchment he had been delivered that morning.

     “What is this?” the Minister asked, walking over and holding his hand out for the note. Harry handed it to him and gave him a moment to read it.

     “Congratulations indeed, Harry. You’ll get to see things to which very few have access.”

     “So you do know what this is about,” his brow furrowed.

     “Fortunately no, but you will if you hurry down to level nine.”

     “But how can I have been randomly selected, Malfoy _has_ to know it’s me that’s coming, what if it’s a trap?”

     “Mr. Potter, get a hold of yourself. You really doubt him that much,” he made a sound that seemed like defeat, “I was hoping you’d have patience enough to find this out yourself, but Mr. Malfoy of today is a different man than you knew back at school.”

     “I’ll take your word for it, but while I’m here I should ask if it’s at all appropriate for him to...to sequester Ministry employees, strip away their weekends to be experimented on?”

     “Take another look at your contract, my boy. You’ll find that you don’t have much choice in the matter.”

     “When this is over, we’re rewording my contract,” Harry said as he stormed off, steeling himself to confront Malfoy. 8:55. At least there’ll be no wait at the lifts…

⃟⃟⃟⃟

     The Department of Mysteries always made Harry uneasy. It was, after all, where Sirius had died, and the _Battle of the Department of Mysteries_ had become quite sensationalized, resulting in an almost legendary story of good battling evil. As he approached, the ill feeling grew. _I know it’s underground, but Merlin, we have magic, brighten this place up a bit!_ Harry thought. A main corridor opened up to a circular room with a surplus of, mostly unmarked, doors. One however, had the title, “The Ever-Locked Room.” Beneath it was a placard with print too small for Harry to read in such dim light. On its immediate left was a disturbingly narrow hallway with a sign indicating Offices 10-19. _Down here, then_ , he bolstered up the courage to walk to Office 18.

      _Ten...eleven...twelve..._ he hadn’t realized how much must go on down here, some of the greatest wizards of his time dedicating their existence to maybe, someday, having an inkling of a better understanding of some great mystery... _thirteen...fourteen...fifteen..._ the hallway seemed to narrow even more, to where he nearly had to turn to his side to avoid scraping his shoulders on the walls... _sixteen...seventeen...eighteen...here it is_. On the door was painted “Office of Healer Malfoy” and Harry stopped, _Healer_? He opened the door to reveal a small reception area with a beautiful, young witch with dark skin and a bright smile behind the desk. She stood up as he entered and said, “Welcome, you must be here for the...study.”

     “Yes, that’s right,” Harry let out, holding up the note he’d received that morning.

     “Please have a seat, just there,” she gestured to a set of two chairs that had presumably sat unused for quite some time, judging on the amount of dust built up on the seats. Once he’d sat down she brought over a quill and clipboard with a few documents attached. “If you wouldn’t mind just filling these out while you wait to see the Healer.” Harry suddenly wondered how Malfoy could have earned the title Healer... _maybe his sentence wasn’t as long as I thought_. Looking down at the forms, he realized that he had no intention of giving Malfoy all these personal details. He stood up and walked over to the receptionist’s desk, “I’m not going to fill these out.”

     “I was worried you wouldn’t want to, I tried to tell Healer Draco who was coming and that it might be difficult but--”

     “Wait, so he really doesn’t know that I received this _invitation_?”

     She glared at him for interrupting her, “As I was saying, I tried to tell him, but he wanted to remain as anonymous and indifferent as possible. He cast a Muffliato Charm on himself and he couldn’t hear a word I said, I’ve never even heard of that spell before.”

     “You’re lucky they stick to the textbooks now at Hogwarts. Listen, I’ll speak with him, tell him I’m going to have no part of his experiments, and that will be all. No need for forms.”

     “I don’t know if he’ll let you off that easy, but I won’t try to stop you, of all people. Just go through this door into the interview room, there’s a small table and two chairs in there. Would you like anything? Tea or coffee?”

     “Coffee would be great actually, black, if you don’t mind.”

     “Of course not, just have a seat and I’ll be right back.”

     He sat down at the small table in a very cramped little room. All these offices were surely an afterthought to the construction of Level 9, but he wondered why they couldn’t be charmed to be a bit less cozy. Being in such close quarters with Malfoy didn’t sound like something Harry wanted to do. The small receptionist came back with a hot cup of black coffee, and said, “I’ll just go let Healer Draco know you’re here.” When she said those words Harry’s heart began to race, his palms clammed up, and he felt the hairs on his neck stand up. He heard a muffled conversation behind the closed door, and a moment later it opened.

     The man that entered was not at all like arrogant, selfish, spoiled brat he knew growing up. He was tall and thin, but not thin like he had been the last time Harry had seen him, not the gaunt, sullen skeleton of a wizard Harry recognized as the body of his enemy. He wore Muggle clothes under a white lab coat, well tailored to fit his matured body. The white-blond hair carefully groomed, a stark contrast from what sat upon Harry’s head. This Malfoy seemed healthy, well taken care of, and Harry wondered who it was that took care of him. Suddenly Harry wished he had cleaned up a bit more before leaving the house. At this point his piercing grey eyes still hadn’t looked up from some papers he held. “So sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Bagshot should have let me know the sec--” Finally his eyes looked up to see the person standing in front of him.

     “Malfoy.”

     “Potter…I didn’t know… it… you…I…”

     Harry didn’t know quite what to make of this stammering, stumbling Malfoy that stood there. _Maybe it really was random_. Suddenly Draco visibly gathered himself and closed the door. “Thank you for complying with the request to participate. I’ll just need to ask a few questions to get started.”

     “Oh no, I just came down here to tell you that I most certainly will NOT be participating.”

     “Unfortunately you must, so let’s maintain some professionalism,” Draco said as he sat at the other end of the small table, less than a meter away from Harry.

     “What do you mean I _must_?”

     “Department of Mysteries Mandate 91-0108 dictates that any and all Ministry employees are subject to participate in reparative therapy, the experimental study is something of a roose I’m afraid… In actuality, this is more of an intervention.”

     “Intervention for what, certainly my drinking hasn’t affected my work whatsoever!” Harry argued, and Malfoy began to write something down on his parchment, mouthing the word drinking, “What in Merlin’s name are you writing?” Harry demanded.

     “Nevermind that Potter, you’re here because...well...because you’re...how should I phrase this? You’re loveless.”

     “Loveless? What in Hades does that mean?”

     “It means you’ve run out of love. And I’m...blimey after all these years it still sounds so odd to say, I’m a Love Healer.”

     “Okay, I get it, ha ha, very funny. I’d buy you trying to pull something like this on me but I can’t believe Kingsley would let it happen,” Harry said as he stood up and moved toward the door.

     “Oh I can assure you the Minister doesn’t know anything about this, we’re beyond his security clearance. Besides, this is a private matter.”

     Harry stopped, unsure about what was happening. How could Malfoy be so cordial towards him, what had happened in the last fifteen years? He sat back down, “Alright, I’ll humor you. What is it we’re doing here exactly?”

     “Well, as you’d know if you’d thoroughly read your contract upon taking the job as an Auror, your physical, psychological, and emotional well-being is monitored all the time. The system has evaluated you and identified you as emotionally ill. It would seem your heart is broken.”

     Harry laughed at that last part, “To say the least. I take it your work is to do with the Love Chamber then?”

     “As you know, I’m an Unspeakable, so I can’t really discuss it. Given the nature of our meetings however, I won’t deny you, this is the Office of Love. And this is the key to the Ever-Locked Room.” He took out a small but ancient brass key, the the wards of which were vastly more complex than any Harry had ever seen, and the bow was shaped like a heart. Draco laid it down on the table between them. “We’ll be going in.”

     “But...isn’t the room….it’s _ever-locked_...how can there be a key?”

     “Ah, yes. A bit of confusion, a misnomer. You see...it’s actually the Ever-Locked _Door_ , but there’s more than one way into the room, and this key goes to the door that’s right behind you."

 


End file.
